No Rest for the Wicked
by Potterotica
Summary: Hermione's life was going according to plan: new job, great fiance, spectacular friends. But one chance encounter and some unfinished business could mean chaos.


**A/N: I own none of this. **

**And to be quite honest, I have no idea why I started this new story when I've got another one still in progress! Whoops…**

Chapter One

Hermione's quill scratched furiously across the parchment. She hoped to make to it home before Ron for once, but it was a lost cause. She suddenly wished for Muggle technology. A computer would just be so much more efficient than a quill. She was writing so quickly her hand was beginning to cramp.

The sound of a throat being cleared made her head snap up. Harry was standing in her doorway, looking at her quizzically.

"Not done yet?" He asked.

She sighed. "Unfortunately no. You'd better head on without me."

He gave her a pitying look. "That makes it the 4th time this week that you've stayed late."

"I know," she replied, suddenly exhausted. "When I took this new job, I don't think I realized just how much _work_ it was going to be."

"You should've stayed in the Auror office," Harry teased. "You would still be out in the field every day, but home for dinner every night."

"Don't rub my nose in it, Harry." She said, though she smiled. "I'm not cut out to be an Auror like you and Ron."

"It's true," Harry acquiesced. "You're entirely too brilliant for that."

Her smile grew wider. "Thank you. Now get out of here, or else I'll never get home."

"Alright, alright. I'll tell Ron you'll be late. Again." He shot her another quick grin before closing the office door.

Hermione exhaled loudly. Her new position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was demanding, yes, but it was also more fulfilling than her job in the Auror office, even on the most boring of days. She felt that through her policy work, she was actually making a difference in the Wizarding world, as opposed to when she was an Auror. She felt guilty for thinking this, but often thought that being an Auror was just a somewhat less exciting re-hashing of her time gallivanting around the woods with Harry and Ron during their "seventh" year at Hogwarts.

She loved those boys, she really did (especially Ron), but this new position gave her an opportunity to make her own mark on the world – separate from them.

After the war, everyone knew her name and that she was the witch who helped Harry Potter defeat the Dark Lord. She was recognized everywhere she went; her private life was put on display. It was much worse than it had been with Viktor. So when the Auror office offered them positions after they finished their schooling at Hogwarts (which she had insisted that they complete), she accepted without hesitation, grateful to bury herself in work. She suspected that the Aurors did it so as to give their office a better reputation, or they did it as a personal favor to the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was a friend. Either way, it gave Hermione experience, and more importantly, perspective.

So while this new job had her staying late in the office, editing decrees or reading proposals, she didn't mind. It was a fresh start; a new ladder to climb. Keeping that in mind, she hunkered down, and prepared to burn the midnight oil.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was past 9 when Hermione finally locked the door to her office. She rubbed her eyes, her exhaustion making them itch as she headed to the lifts that would take her to the main hall of the Ministry.

She pulled the gate shut, and pressed the button for the entrance hall. The lift shuddered and groaned, making its way quickly through the bowels of the building. She frowned when it came to a stop, wondering who else was working late.

As the gate opened, she grimaced at the sight of the elevator's new occupant. The lift was stopped at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and her new companion was none other than Draco Malfoy.

His eyebrows shot up as he caught sight of Granger in the elevator. She looked tired, her hair bushier than ever, her slim form hidden underneath her work robes. She avoided his gaze, for even after the war, there were still no kind words between them.

He stepped in, his eyes flashing wickedly as he cast a glance in her direction.

"Evening, Granger," he said nonchalantly.

"Malfoy," she responded in kind.

"Working late?" He asked as he punched the entrance hall button and the gates slid closed.

When she didn't respond, he continued as the lift began to move again, "Didn't think Aurors had to work so hard."

She sighed in exasperation but still did not answer him.

"But then again, why would you have to work hard? Isn't everything given to you on a silver platter?" He asked maliciously.

She snorted. "That's funny, coming from you."

His eyes flashed, this time in anger. "Is it now?"

"Yes, it is," she said angrily. "And why is it that you're speaking to me? Have we entered an alternate universe where I suddenly seem to care what's on your mind?"

Draco ran his tongue over his top teeth. The little movement dragged her gaze to his mouth, which was his intention. "You used to care what was on my mind," he said softly, his voice practically a coo.

She flushed slightly, and her eyes shot back up to his. "No, I didn't."

She was startled as the lift came to a sudden halt and the grille slid open. She hurriedly brushed past him in to the entrance hall and made for the fireplaces. She jumped when she felt his voice, and his breath, at her ear.

"Why do you deny what happened, Granger?" He asked, his voice a caress. "At the time, you seemed to enjoy yourself."

"It never should have happened," she said briskly. "It was a mistake. I was upset." She was almost to the fireplace. From there, she was so close to fresh air, home, Ron.

"I know you were upset," Draco said, his voice sending chills throughout her body (and not the bad kind). "I knew just how to comfort you, didn't I?"

She whipped around to face him as she finally reached the fireplace. "We were teenagers, Draco. Shouldn't you let this go by now? It's been what? Eight years since that happened? We're adults now. Grow up." And without another word, she stepped back and let the flames gently carry her through to the women's restroom above. She Apparated immediately home.

Draco, meanwhile, still stood in the entrance hall. He loved to rile Granger up. He knew that she regretted the 'incident' that happened so long ago, and he loved that it still upset her.

He, on the other hand, was jubilant. He still remembered that night with tenderness. It was her touch, her scent, her _goodness_ that had saved him that year. The memories had gotten him through some very tough times since. In some ways, he wished that he could make new memories with her…

Although there was little to no chance of that happening. She had been with the Weasel King since the end of the war. Actually, he had heard a rumor that she was engaged to him, though she wore no ring on her finger. So he had satisfied himself with others; women who were considered to be more socially acceptable for someone of his background. His current partner, Astoria, was likely to become his wife. She came from a pure-blood family of wealth. She was refined, intelligent, beautiful. And cold.

He had begun to hate where he came from. It no longer mattered, though at times, during their Sunday dinners, his father would occasionally try and ignite a debate regarding blood purity. His mother would humor him, but Draco refused to play along. It was pointless. Blood was blood. And some blood was magical, no matter where it came from.

The only thing that Draco seemed to enjoy of late was his position at the Ministry in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He acted as a liaison between ministries in northern Africa and his own, and he never had to explain away his lineage with his business contacts. It was refreshing, and challenging.

And though he and Granger worked in the same building, he saw her very rarely. So it was always a pleasant surprise to catch her, and to catch her alone.

But perhaps he shouldn't tease her so much?

Then again… he thought of the way her skin had turned pink, of her eyes lighting up in the heat of an argument, and of her wild hair growing wilder with her passion.

Oh yes. He was going to rile her up every chance he got.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione Apparated to her living room to find Ron sprawled out on the couch, asleep. She looked at him lovingly, despite the slight snore and his mouth hanging open. She dropped her bag and went to him, kneeling down so that her face was level with his.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," she said softly, kissing his temple.

His eyes opened slowly. When he turned his head and found her face, he gave her a dazzling grin. Sometimes she couldn't believe it. Almost 7 years together, and he still looked at her like she was the only woman on the planet. He made her feel so special, so loved that her heart felt like bursting at times.

"Hey," he said groggily, sitting up so Hermione could sit next to him. "How was work?"

"Long," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning in to him. He responded by putting an arm around her shoulder and smoothing the hair back from her face.

"Still like it better than the Auror office?" He asked.

"Would you hate me if I said yes?" She asked in reply.

He grinned. "No," he answered. "I just want you to be the happiest you can be. And if that means I don't get to see you every minute of every day, than that's okay."

She smiled back at him. "Since when did you get to be so sweet?"

"It's only because I'm tired."

She laughed, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "I'm starving. You?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"I guess not."

"Mum sent over a casserole."

"Is there any left?" She asked, grinning.

"What?" Ron asked, feigning shock. "Do you really think I would leave you nothing?"

Hermione giggled. "You've done it before."

"Woman, do you really think so little of me?" He teased.

"Yes. Yes, I do." She looked at him gravely before sticking her tongue out at him.

He got up from the couch and hauled her up with him. "Come on then. I'll astonish you with my ability to reheat food."

"Ooooh," Hermione said. "Such a turn on."

He cocked his eyebrow at her. "I sure hope so," he said as he pulled her in to the kitchen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As she lay in bed that night, she watched Ron sleep peacefully. She smoothed some hair back from his brow as his chest rose and fell. She remembered a time when none of them slept tranquilly. She remembered when they were all afraid to go to sleep; afraid to face the nightmares that awaited them as soon as they shut their eyes. It had been years since Ron had been awoken by his own screams. For Hermione, it had only been recently that she had begun to sleep through the night.

She knew that Harry still suffered from time to time. A person, no matter how strong of will, could not go through what Harry went through without some long-term effects.

Suddenly, her chance meeting with Malfoy popped in to her head. She had not given it much though since it happened, but now the details came flooding back. She flushed again as she remembered the feel of his breath on her ear, the words that he had whispered. And then felt disgusted as she realized she was thinking of these events fondly while lying next to her fiancé.

She flipped on to her back and stared at the ceiling. What was wrong with her? The past was the past. What happened in their sixth year… needed to stay in the past. It was one night. She had been very upset about Ron. It didn't mean anything. She shuddered to think that it was even spoke of out loud.

She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep. But instinctively she knew sleep would evade her. Her thoughts were too scattered, too intense, too… sinful.

And there was no rest for the wicked.

XXXXXXXXXXX

**Hope this is all to your liking! Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


End file.
